Another Kick in the Teeth

I read that a teaching union has complianed that an inflation busting pay rise given to our hard-working teachers as a "kick in the teeth."  It certainly is and, as a tax payer, I am outraged.

Dressing Down for the Brylcream Boys

News that the Royal Air Force plans to relax its standards of dress on Fridays to boost “inclusivity,” dismayed me but such is life in our topsy-turvy society that, I suppose, one should not be surprised by the latest manifestations of wokefulness.  But I shall seize the opportunity to appeal for a pardon for an incident in early 1966. Newly arrived as a pilot on my first operational Squadron and led astray by a 2^nd tourist Navigator, I was reported to my Squadron Commander for being in the Officers’ Mess bar in working dress after 1900 hours.  This, in those regulated days, was specifically contrary to Mess Rules which required No 1 Uniform, if working, or lounge suit if off duty.  My Squadron Commander appeared at about 10 minutes past the hour, dressed in No1, hat and gloves, and ordered my Navigator guide and I to leave the bar immediately and change our clothing appropriately.  The incident was concluded in a one-side interview the following Monday morning, this time me wearing the hat and gloves.  No names, no pack drill, of course, but I do remember that the Squadron Commander’s wife’s horse was encouraged to exercise in the foyer of the Officers’ Mess – presumably as a reprisal for the wives of the pranksters who were obliged, by the lady in question, to wear hats on even the most trivial of social occasions.

Sporting Overtures

A fellow supporter at St James’ Park whose seat is the same row but about 8 places in the direction of Gallowgate, has an unfortunate habit of arriving for the match about a minute after the rest of us have settled in our seats for the kick off. I usually mutter something about the BBC having put everyone out by delaying the time signals, stand up, and allow him to pass.  These days, there is no live football to be watched but we seem to be deluged with behind closed door matches on the television, all of which are preceded by an overture of ritual grovelling.  It is not, as far as I can see, that the grovellers feel they have anything to grovel for, rather that they have identified grave failing in others and therefore feel compelled to apologise on their behalf.  Nice of them but I have recently become sympathetic to my fellow season ticket holder at St James’ Park and have taken the habit of not joining the televised proceedings until the pre-match knee bending is complete.  I now switch on my TV a couple of minutes after the scheduled start so that I can enjoy the spectacle of watching footballers do what they are paid for, playing football (I agree that is an inadequate definition as far as Newcastle United are concerned), rather than seeing them prostrating themselves in support of some loosely defined slogan.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I am a supporter of injustice, it’s just that if anyone actually gave me a specific example of “institutional” or “systemic” practice I might pay more attention.  Meantime, as Brendan O’Neill observed, "we can’t see the prejudiced wood for the virtue-signalling trees."

Community Policing

I wonder, based on recent form, whether we shall be treated to wholesome media coverage of our police forces enjoying a drink or two with the crowds of newly released revellers this weekend?